Let me dig my own grave If it helps ease the burden upon you Let me dig thro this iron baked crust Thro this land forged hard in your image. Arid. Free from water and compassion. It is back-breaking work, but Let me dig my own grave If it helps ease the burden upon you.
Allow me to hang myself with a noose Made of your gentle razor wire that will slice and choke. And I will save you the trouble of a Trial or a hearing. I will save you The inconvenience of building a gallows, Or even the cost of my return fare, so Allow me to hang myself with a noose Made of your gentle razor wire that will slice and choke.
Permit me, if you will, To fall into a pool of my own blood, at my child's feet. I will slash my own skin and sever my veins Causing my blood to pump and splash to the floor Where it will mingle with the dust of this arid place There will be no blood on your hands, so Permit me, if you will, To fall into a pool of my own blood, at my child's feet.
Let me dig my own grave If it helps ease the burden upon you Let me dig thro this iron baked crust Thro this land forged hard in your image. Arid. Free from water and compassion. It is back-breaking work, but Let me dig my own grave If it helps ease the burden upon you.
Nick Allen
(2002)
Let me dig my own grave
If it helps ease the burden upon you
Let me dig thro this iron baked crust
Thro this land forged hard in your image.
Arid. Free from water and compassion.
It is back-breaking work, but
Let me dig my own grave
If it helps ease the burden upon you.
Allow me to hang myself with a noose
Made of your gentle razor wire that will slice and choke.
And I will save you the trouble of a
Trial or a hearing. I will save you
The inconvenience of building a gallows,
Or even the cost of my return fare, so
Allow me to hang myself with a noose
Made of your gentle razor wire that will slice and choke.
Permit me, if you will,
To fall into a pool of my own blood, at my child's feet.
I will slash my own skin and sever my veins
Causing my blood to pump and splash to the floor
Where it will mingle with the dust of this arid place
There will be no blood on your hands, so
Permit me, if you will,
To fall into a pool of my own blood, at my child's feet.
Let me dig my own grave
If it helps ease the burden upon you
Let me dig thro this iron baked crust
Thro this land forged hard in your image.
Arid. Free from water and compassion.
It is back-breaking work, but
Let me dig my own grave
If it helps ease the burden upon you.
accessed at: 'Refugee Action Committee', Poems from Baxter: http://www.refugeeaction.org/rac/poem.htm